


Carte Blanche

by makeit_takeit



Series: All Caps [4]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, Healing Sex, Intimacy, M/M, Podfic Available, Porn Watching, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Sex As Character Study, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeit_takeit/pseuds/makeit_takeit
Summary: Nic logs on early, just to make sure Andris1991 is still on the site, still doing his daily show at 11 pm Eastern Time. It’s only been a few months since Nic was a semi-regular viewer, but still.If Nic’s life is proof of anything, it’s that things can always change.Andris1991 is still in today’s listings, with a countdown clock showing he’s scheduled to go live in just under an hour. That should give Nic just enough time to broach the subject with Tom.Well.To make a plan, really. To work out exactly what to say and how to say it, how toexplainto Tom.Then to find his balls.Thento broach the subject with Tom.





	Carte Blanche

**Author's Note:**

> As you may or may not recall, it has been mentioned that before he met Tom, Nic had a "slightly overdeveloped dedication to one particular cammer on one particular paysite."
> 
> Have you ever felt a burning need to know more about that whole situation? If so, it’s your lucky day!
> 
> Thanks to everybody who keeps reading these installments and being so encouraging about this odd little pairing and the quirky relationship they’re developing. As always, this is for all of you!
> 
> And my perpetual thanks to **_ambruises_** for cheerleading, brainstorming, and general awesomeness.

Nic logs on early, just to make sure Andris1991 is still on the site, still doing his daily show at 11 pm Eastern Time. It’s only been a few months since Nic was a semi-regular viewer, but still.

If Nic’s life is proof of anything, it’s that things can always change.

Andris1991 is still in today’s listings, with a countdown clock showing he’s scheduled to go live in just under an hour. That should give Nic just enough time to broach the subject with Tom.

Well.

To make a plan, really. To work out exactly what to say and how to say it, how to _explain_ to Tom.

Then to find his balls.

_Then_ to broach the subject with Tom.

Andris is in Europe somewhere, 6 or 7 hours ahead. Nic’s pretty sure he doesn’t remember Andris ever saying exactly where, but the fact that Andris’s streams often start with him yawning and drinking espresso, saying good morning in his lilting, broadly-European accent, wrapped in a robe and adorably sleep-rumpled, is hard to forget.

Likewise hard to forget is the soft, pale ambient light that’s often barely noticeable when his stream starts, but gets brighter and turns to full daylight as the stream goes on, eventually falling on all that warm honeyed skin, bared and glittering with a sheen of sweat, usually, by that point in the show, making Nic imagine what it might feel like under his fingers.

_Right_.

So, yes, it’s been months, but obviously, Andris left an impression.

“I wondered where you wandered off to,” Tom says as he comes into the bedroom, and Nic has to resist the urge to slam his laptop closed like a teenager whose parent just walked in on something he was never meant to see.

Because Nic is an adult man of a certain age, and Tom is an adult man of a similar age, and as such there’s literally no circumstance under which either of them should be surprised to find the other watching porn, even if they’ve never watched it _together_ before.

Or really talked about it, even, in so many words.

Nic clears his throat.

“I was, uh. I mean. I thought maybe you might want to. Well.”

Tom has stopped in the door of his closet, one arm out of his t-shirt, eyebrow raised.

“Dude,” he says, “were you jerking off or something?”

“No,” Nic shakes his head, and Tom seems to take him at his word, shrugging and tugging his t-shirt the rest of the way off.

“But I was kind of - . I mean, I wanted to show you something, if. I mean, you don’t have to, but. If you wanted, I guess.”

Tom has stepped out of his sweats and is standing there in just his shorty boxer briefs, looking – whatever.

_How Tom looks_.

He shrugs again, but his eyebrows are pulled down suspiciously.

“Okay,” he says, sounding skeptical, but he crawls onto the bed without asking any further questions. Nic takes a deep breath, and turns his screen so Tom can see.

“This is,” Tom starts, and –

“It’s a camsite,” Nic hurries to finish, “and it’s cool if you don’t want to watch or whatever, but. I wanted to show you, like. I mean, this used to be a thing I did pretty often, like, _before_? And this guy in particular is. Well, he was the reason I was like. A regular.”

Nic can feel himself blushing under the scrutiny of Tom’s gaze, but he swallows and keeps going.

“I don’t really know if it’s your thing – like. Watching a guy, I mean? I know you probably watch straight porn like, exclusively, and I’m sure you’re not into. I don’t know. It’s – whatever is fine. We can just forget it,” he finishes lamely, “if you want.”

He trails off awkwardly, staring determinedly down at his hand where it’s gripping the edge of his laptop.

Things have been going so well since Nic got here from Alabama, and everything has felt so – _connected_, so in sync, so _clear _– Nic just. He let himself get too comfortable, probably, let himself take liberties that he should know better than to take, and now he’s brought this up and he can’t un-bring it, and he wishes he could just melt into the bed and disappear.

The silence stretches long enough that he finally looks up, tentative, unsure of what he’s going to find in Tom’s face.

But Tom’s not even looking at Nic; he’s staring at the laptop screen, at the profile picture of Andris - a moody black and white shot, obviously professionally done, of him from the back, nude, with his head turned so his chin’s on his shoulder with his shaggy hair hiding most of his face. It’s all shadows and angles, shades of light and dark in the dips and contours of the musculature of his back and arms, the swell of his ass and the well-defined hamstrings, the prominent line of his quadriceps down the side of one out-turned thigh.

But it’s not the photo Tom’s looking at, Nic realizes as he looks more closely, or the short profile blurb below it that just says _Andris, Gay, 24, Europe. Artist, model, fitness freak, trainer._

Tom’s looking at the tags below that, the ones used for searching the site.

Nic’s first thought, his first fear as always, is that Tom might be put off by something he sees there that’s _too gay_ sounding: _solo male_, _anal play, object insertion, anal beads, dildo, butt plug, prostate stimulation, prostate orgasm_ are all there in the tags, and these are all things Tom and Nic haven’t even acknowledged_ exist_, much less actually discussed in any way.

But then he realizes, also there in the tags are _muscle jock_ and _muscle bottom_ and, perhaps most tellingly, _small cock_.

Jesus Christ.

Nic reaches for the side of the screen, overcome with that same exposed, embarrassed feeling of being caught out doing something he’s not supposed to.

“Sorry, God,” he shakes his head, face burning. “I shouldn’t even have - . Just, sorry.”

He slams the screen closed, just as he hears Tom say _wait._

Nic keeps his hand flat on the closed laptop, so Tom won’t see it shake.

“I meant to, like. Talk to you about it, not just spring it on you. I should have planned that better, I’m really - .”

“If you say _sorry_ again, Dowder, I swear to God,” Tom cuts him off, voice not quite angry but just.

_Tense._

He blows out a long, slow breath.

“Stop apologizing, okay? It’s fine. I was just. I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all, but it’s _fine_. Just – relax, and let’s -.”

“You don’t want to watch gay porn, Willy,” Nic breaks in with a sigh, annoyed with himself. “I know that, of _course_ I do, I just – forgot or something, that it’s. Different, for you.”

He’d only been thinking of showing Tom how – well.

It’s just.

It’s just Andris is so open, so free with his body. Proud, even, showing off on camera and smiling, teasing all the guys like Nic who sign in to pant over him and compliment him and watch him with adoring eyes, jerk off to his perfect body and his perfect smile and his very much less than proportionate, but none the less perfect, little cock.

He’d only been thinking that maybe if Tom _saw_ that, he’d see how - .

How it _could_ be, or something.

Maybe he’d see that he doesn’t need to feel weird, or abnormal, or _pathetic_, or whatever other thing Tom tells himself he is; whatever thing Tom tells himself it _would be_, if he let Nic look a little more closely, a little more often. If he let Nic see him and touch him the way Tom sees and touches Nic, now – sure and confident and proprietary, with blanket permission and full carte blanche.

Maybe he’d see that he doesn’t need to be self-conscious anymore, not here, not now. Not with _Nic_, of all people.

But that was just Nic being selfish, probably, or at the very least inconsiderate, to want to push Tom in areas he’s clearly uncomfortable, and - .

“How the hell do you know what kind of porn I want to watch, Nic? Huh?” Tom rolls his eyes. “How about you cut the bullshit with the whole _but_ _you’re not gay_ thing, and let me decide for myself? How’s that for a crazy idea?”

Nic wants to object, to defend himself and his intentions, but he doesn’t. He just bites his lip and holds his tongue, raises his eyebrows at Tom, palms out, pointedly letting him_ decide for himself_.

“Why this? Like, not just some porn you like but_ this_ site, this _guy_, specifically?”

Nic shrugs, noncommittal.

“It was my go-to, I guess? Before we - . And, like. I just thought maybe you’d, I dunno. Be flattered, or something? If you saw how close he is to. I mean.”

Nic looks down at his hand, still spread wide over the closed laptop, and speaks carefully.

“He’s very similar to you, _physically_, and - obviously that’s exactly my type or whatever, you already know that, but - I thought if we watched him maybe you’d _see_ \- . Or, just, like, get a different perspective?”

This is the part where, in Nic’s experience, Tom’s jaw gets tight and he clams up, pulls away, shuts down Nic’s awkward overtures and doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

But this time, he slides his hand over Nic’s on top of the laptop, slots his big fingers in between Nic’s knuckles and laces their fingers together.

“A different perspective on what?” he asks, low and throaty, and Nic shrugs unsurely, chest feeling tight.

“You know there are – things. Ways that you don’t like me to - .”

Jesus, he’s so terrible at this. Nic wishes he’d had more time to prepare his thoughts, make some notes or something. This isn’t something he’s going to be able to communicate effectively on the fly, that he knows for fucking sure, but Tom’s here, and looking at him expectantly. Tom’s holding his hand, and willing to hear him out, so - .

He breathes, and keeps trying.

“The way you are with me? The way you look at me, and touch me, and put your hands on me, like it’s - . Like, just – there’s no question, right? There’s no hesitation, and I mean, I don’t _want_ there to be. I _want _you to know I’m, like – _here_ _for it_. I’m down for whatever, ready when you are. Right?”

Tom snorts a little, but he shrugs, nods without objection. They both know it’s the fucking truth.

“So I just wish you could trust me to - . Or, like, I don’t fucking know.” Nic shrugs helplessly, shakes his head, because nothing he’s saying is right, none of it really exactly what he means, but he doesn’t have the words to explain.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, I guess. And I thought maybe if you could see _him_, and how, like – just _ridiculously_ hot he is, how there are plenty of other people who think so, how it’s not just me - then maybe you’d understand, or something, but. It’s stupid, probably, and - .”

He stops there, manages to force his mouth shut before he says _sorry_ again, at least.

Tom’s silent for a minute, still clutching Nic’s hand on top of the laptop cover, until finally he blows out another long, shuddering breath.

“So let’s watch it, then,” he says, letting go of Nic’s hand to tug the laptop open again, face resolved.

“Tommy,” Nic says, in a voice he used to consider _too soft_ but which he has now has resigned himself to admitting is his standard-issue _Tom Voice_, “it’s really no big deal, we don’t - .”

Tom just leans into him, wraps an arm around Nic’s neck and slaps his palm across Nic’s mouth by way of shutting him up mid-sentence, tugging him closer and wrestling him snug up against Tom’s side.

Nic would like to think the noise he lets out in protest isn’t a _squeal_, exactly - but, well.

“You’re the brains of this operation, buddy,” Tom says, nodding at the screen where Andris’s profile is once again displayed, “I’m just the pretty face. Well - and the muscle.”

Nic attempts an indignant challenge to that characterization of things, but his outraged _hey!_ is still muffled by Tom’s hand over his mouth. He struggles futilely against Tom’s arms, tries licking Tom’s palm to get him to let go, tries elbowing him in the gut when that doesn’t work, but Tom just cackles and keeps him in a modified headlock.

“So if you think it’s a good idea to watch this dude jerk off or whatever, then I’m gonna assume it might be a good idea, and we’re gonna try it, eh? You’re gonna shut up, and I’m gonna shut up, and we’re gonna do this. Agree?”

Nic _humphs_ against Tom’s palm, and nods his head in acquiescence.

“Alright then” Tom says, and moves his hand, only to swipe the wet palm Nic’s been licking right down Nic’s arm with a grin, making Nic squeal again.

“Cue it up,” Tom says, face grimly determined. “Let’s do it.”

-

It’s definitely - .

Look, it’s awkward, okay? There’s no other word for it.

It’s awkward to sit there side by side against the headboard with Tom, both of them shirtless and Tom in only his underwear, and watch Andris come online in his robe, saying hello to everyone in his soft accent, tucking his messy, shaggy hair behind his ear and sipping his espresso, and know they’re about to watch him get naked and. _Perform_.

Nic is, of course, hyper aware of how _gay_ it all seems, in a way he would never be without Tom sitting next to him – Andris holding his dainty little cup in his silk robe, all the horny assholes in the chat window already making lewd pleas for Andris’s attention, spewing shamelessly thirsty, embarrassingly adoring filth. Nic feels oddly responsible, like he’s the resident representative of gay men in Tom’s life and their behavior might reflect poorly on him, or somehow spook Tom.

It’s so perpetual, and so stupid, and it’s getting so old, honestly, but Nic can’t just – _not_ feel it, even when he knows better. Even when he knows it’s just his own internalized bullshit, when he knows better than to put any stock in it, he’s still nervous, unsure of how Tom’s going to react in this overtly gay space where Nic can’t help but feel like Tom’s tour guide, responsible for being a good host and seeing to it that his guest has a nice time.

Also awkward is the fact that Nic already knows how _he’s_ going to react, and now Tom’s going to see that, too. Tom’s going to see how much it turns Nic on, going to see him get hard and go all glassy-eyed and open mouthed, stupid and panting over Andris and the things he does – the way he looks, and the way he sounds, doing them.

Obviously, rationally, Nic knows that Tom knows Nic is gay.

_Obviously._

But his irrational brain insists it’s one thing to know it, it’s another thing to see it, and Tom’s never seen overt _evidence_ of Nic’s gayness before – not for anyone other than Tom, at least.

Nic really, _really_ should have thought this through better.

They’re totally silent, shoulder to shoulder with Nic’s laptop between them on the bed, as Andris sets his coffee aside, robe sliding off one well-defined shoulder.

“What do you think, guys,” he asks, pulling out a small plug and a bottle of lube, “shall we start with this one, this morning?”

The chat erupts with chatter in response, and Tom slides down on his elbow next to Nic, face propped on Nic’s biceps and eyes on the screen like they’re just watching any old movie.

Andris slicks up the plug and sets it aside, then unties his robe. When he stands up, he leaves the robe in a puddle on the chair.

Nic feels his face burn at the sight, Andris standing naked as The Adonis and exactly as self-conscious, fondling himself absentmindedly with his still-slick hand while he turns slowly, posing and twisting, flexing and grinning, letting his fans admire him while he works his cock up to stand at attention.

Like Tom’s, it points straight out from his body when hard, not big or heavy enough to droop under its own weight when standing, not long enough to curve up against his belly when he lies down. It just points straight at the camera, shiny with lube and oh so enticing.

Nic feels his own dick start to perk up and pay attention. He draws a knee up, just casually, like Tom won’t know it’s an obvious ploy to hide his growing erection.

Tom doesn’t even look at him, keeps his eyes on the screen as he shoves at Nic’s knee, knocking his leg back flat on the bed, then slides his hand over Nic’s crotch, kneading at his dick over his shorts. Nic grits his teeth and tries not to whimper.

“Tell me what you like about him,” Tom says, still groping Nic’s crotch, eyes still on the screen where Andris has his back to the camera, legs spread just enough, fingers sliding along and into the cleft of his ass while the chat falls all over itself to encourage his efforts.

Nic holds in a snort, fights back the urge to roll his eyes and respond with a snarky _look at him._

Nic has to remind himself - Tom _is_ looking, but he sees something different than Nic sees. Nic tries to concentrate on something beyond the way Tom’s squeezing and rubbing at his crotch, to find the words he needs to help Tom see things his way.

“He’s – big,” Nic breathes, and his face flares immediately, because obviously that could be taken a number of ways and one of them is clearly _false_, so - . “It’s just - big body, big shoulders, big ass, big thighs. Big hands.”

“Don’t you think the big hands just make it - . I mean, just makes his dick seem smaller by comparison, don’t you think?” Tom keeps his eyes on the screen and his hand on the crotch of Nic’s shorts, doesn’t look up.

“I never. Uh.” Jesus, it’s hard to concentrate. Nic takes another deep breath. “I’ve never thought of it that way, it’s just. To me it’s two parts of the same thing, I guess? I like the hands, I like the dick – independent of each other. Same way I like his face, his smile, his ass – all of them individually, or all of them together, doesn’t matter. He’s just – _hot_. That’s all there is to it.”

On the screen, Andris is still standing with his back to the camera, sliding the plug into his ass, teasing the clamoring chat by sliding it almost all the way in, then back out, grinning his devastating little grin back over his shoulder.

Finally he lets it slide all the way in and leaves it, walks over to the table at the side of the bed and chooses another one, asking the chat if he should move up one size or two, as if the answer he’ll get isn’t obvious.

“How can he walk around with that thing up his ass?” Willy wonders, and gives Nic’s cock another squeeze. Nic’s not sure if he’s actually expected to answer, but luckily Willy goes on without waiting for one.

“So big body, small cock, that’s it, huh babe?” Tom says, kind of low and amused. “That’s all it takes to get you all hot and bothered? Pretty easy, Dowder.” He gives another squeeze, and finally he looks at Nic, grinning.

“You say that,” Nic pants, as Tom releases the hold he’s got on Nic’s crotch only to slide his hand down into Nic’s pants to resume his groping, skin on skin, “like it’s so easy to find. Like there are just guys all over the place with a face and a body and a – shit, god_dammit_ \- . A c- _fuck_.”

He curls in on himself a little as Tom squeezes his balls firmly, just the way he knows, by now, that Nic does to himself when he needs to keep things from moving too fast. Tom applies just the right amount of pressure for just the right amount of time, then he gives Nic’s cock another nice, tight stroke.

Jesus, he’s gotten good at this.

“A what now?” Tom teases, his mouth against Nic’s ear, voice low and deep. “A face and body and – what was that?”

“Cock,” Nic manages to blurt, finally, “a fucking _cock_ like that. _Look_ at him, God.”

On screen, Andris is on his bed now, on his back with the camera pointed up between his thick, smooth thighs. He’s got his right arm wrapped around the back of his thigh, working the bigger plug into his ass, while simultaneously fondling his cock and balls with his left. His thumb and two fingers are all he needs to slide his foreskin up and down over the head of his cock, little pink head disappearing and reappearing as he does. Nic’s mouth literally waters at the sight.

He knows Tom’s watching him, knows his pupils must be blown wide at this point, knows there’s no hiding how much all this is getting to him.

“You know,” Tom says conversationally, watching Nic’s face, giving him another firm stroke, “it’s kinda hard to tell for sure, but I’d bet money I’m taller than him.”

Nic whimpers a little.

“A lot taller,” he agrees, and Tom grins, gives him another stroke, “and big - . _Bigger_ than him. People ask for his stats in chat all the time - he’s like six feet, 190.”

“Huh,” Tom says, sliding his thumb over the head of Nic’s cock, spreading the slippery mess there. “That’s not really that impressive. He’s not even bigger than _you_, babe.”

Tom says it like Nic is – whatever. Like he’s _small_ or something, which is.

Like, Nic knows it’s patently untrue, of course, but compared to Tom, almost anyone seems small, even Nic.

Tom’s just so _big_.

Nic shivers at the thought, and Tom’s laugh rumbles against his skin. He knows exactly what he’s doing, that fucker.

Nic watches Andris press on the base of the plug, little rhythmic pushes timed to the movement of the fingers tugging on his cock. Andris is making little cut-off, breathy grunts with every stroke, writhing a little on his bed with his thighs spread wide, heels dug into the duvet.

The chat is flying by at warp speed, almost too fast to read, if anyone was even trying, at this point. Nic doubts anyone is, doubts anyone is looking at anything except Andris, the rolling motion of his hips and the coordinated movements of his hands.

Tom squeezes Nic’s balls again, and it forces a strangled grunt from Nic’s lungs, but he’s glad for it. Tom’s spared a few quick looks at the screen, but mostly he’s just watching Nic, and Tom know exactly when to pull on the reigns, when Nic’s getting too close to too far gone.

Nic lets his head loll back against the headboard and pants, Tom’s fingers still wrapped around his balls, tugging a little until Nic whines.

“He ever say how big his dick is?” Tom asks, low and soft, and Nic feels his already accelerated heart rate leap and race. They’ve never – _Tom’s_ never – even come close to broaching a subject like that.

In the two weeks Nic’s been in Canada, Tom and his trainer have put Nic through some pretty brutal workouts, but he’d swear none of them have made his heart beat as wild and frantic as it’s beating when he says,

“Three and a -. A half. He says three and half inches, hard.”

Nic closes his eyes and grits his teeth while Tom strokes his cock, then tugs on his balls again, wet lips against Nic’s arm. Tom repeats the same series of movements again, then again, until Nic’s toes are curling, belly fluttering with anticipation.

“Mine’s smaller,” Tom whispers finally, like it’s – Jesus, almost like he’s _teasing _Nic with it - hand hot and heavy but perfectly still around Nic’s cock, and Jesus Christ, Nic can’t - . He _can’t_ -.

He squirms under Tom’s hand, trying to angle away from the touch before he spontaneously comes all over himself.

“Hey,” Tom says, soothing, and he gives Nic’s balls a squeeze hard enough to make Nic groan, deep and guttural. “Hey, relax. I got you, I’ll take care of you, just relax.”

Nic nods, lets his eyes flutter open. Andris is sitting up on the bed now, slicking up a big blue dildo, still rocking his hips against the plug that’s already inside him, reaching down periodically to rub at the head of his cock, to pull at his foreskin.

Nic slams his eyes closed again.

Tom pets at Nic’s chest, his belly with the hand that’s not in his shorts, then gives him a few solid strokes, and Nic’s lost track of everything at this point – what Andris is doing, what Tom’s saying.

“I don’t,” he pants, turning his face into Tom’s chest. “Tommy, c’mon, please.”

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Tom purrs against his hair as Nic jerks and twitches, getting closer to the edge. “You like that big hand on you?”

“Fuck, fuck,” Nic groans, and gropes blindly at Tom’s lap. Tom’s cock is hard, standing up straight, and Tom’s whole package fits under Nic’s palm, dick and balls and all, so perfect, and Tom’s hand is big and calloused around Nic’s cock, grip like iron, and he just - .

“Not yet, baby,” Tom murmurs, so soft, and pulls Nic’s hand away from his crotch. “I’ll give you that cock you need, but you gotta come for me first, come on.”

Nic shudders and comes immediately, on command, because _of course he does_.

-

In the dark, later - long after Nic finally caught his breath again and looked up to find Tom watching intently as Andris fucked himself relentlessly with the blue dildo, after Nic slid down on his belly and inched Tom’s underwear down far enough to get his mouth around Tom’s junk, sucked him off with Tom’s hand fisted in his hair and Tom’s eyes fixed on the computer screen - Tom’s got his arm thrown over Nic’s waist, his forehead pressed against the top of Nic’s spine, breathing damp and warm along Nic’s bare skin.

“I’ve watched gay porn before, y’know,” Tom says, suddenly loud in the still, quiet room.

“Oh.” Nic’s not sure where that came from, but he’s willing to go with it. “I didn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t really have thought. Obviously.”

“It was,” Tom starts, then stops. His arm slides back so his hand rests on Nic’s hip, firm and warm. “It was when I was younger, when I was. I dunno. Just looking for – something. Someone that wasn’t hung like fucking Godzilla. It was pretty impossible to find, so I thought, like – gay porn, right? Twice the dicks, twice the chance of seeing one that was different from the usual, or whatever.”

“Did it work?”

Nic’s got his suspicions that it probably didn’t.

Tom’s derisive snort is all the confirmation he needs to support those suspicions.

“Turns out straight or gay doesn’t really matter. When you search for something specific, like – what the fuck ever, _small cock_ or some shit - ,” Tom spits, disgusted, “all of it is about, like – I dunno, _laughing at it_ or whatever, so. That fucking sucked.”

Nic’s chest feels tight, his stomach queasy. As a person who’s spent his fair share of time searching porn sites for similar content, trying to find just the right combination of search words and phrases to find just the type of thing he’s looking for, he knows exactly how often the results are geared toward small penis humiliation kink, or otherwise focused on feminizing or reducing the small penis-haver to an object of scorn and ridicule.

Just imagining Tom, young and impressionable and vulnerable and scared, turning to _porn_ of all places in search of some kind of representation, some kind of validation only to find_ that_, it’s just - .

Nic wants to turn over, wants to pull Tom into his arms and tell him how sorry he is that happened, but he’s pretty sure Tom wouldn’t view it as anything but pity, and that’s the last thing Nic wants. So he stays where he is, takes his time to choose his words before he speaks.

“That does fucking suck,” he agrees, in the kind of steady, neutral tone he knows Tom will appreciate much more than overt sympathy. “It’s weird , you know, to think I was searching for the same things as you were when I was younger? I mean, for different reasons, but – yeah. I saw that same - like, the kind of stuff you mean, and. I dunno, man. Like, I get that there’s no right or wrong way to get off, and like, if that’s what some people are into that’s cool – but. To me it was just like, so backward, you know? Like, the opposite of the way I saw things, opposite of the way I felt.”

Tom’s fingers squeeze his hip, his lips skate across the edge of Nic’s shoulder, so quick they’re barely there before they’re gone.

“Even when you were a kid,” he asks, so fucking soft and unsure Nic’s heart wants to break, “you always wanted – or, I mean. That’s always what you liked, even then?”

So Nic explains as best he can – he never has before, not to Tom, not to _anyone_ – about Coach Huffield and the monster crush Nic had on him, about how he basically formed the foundation of everything Nic finds attractive in a man, to this day. About how it felt, being gay in the locker room, being gay in _Alabama_ for God’s sake, and how Coach Huffield gave him a safe place to put all those feelings and anxieties and desires, someone close and known and loved and respected, but also completely unattainable and non-threatening.

Tom is perfectly silent, just listening, up until Nic says,

“I mean, I was fourteen, okay? I was still hoping that fantasizing about a small dick meant I was _less gay_ than fantasizing about a big one.”

Then, the warm breath from Tom’s laugh tickles the back of Nic’s neck.

“How’d that work out for you?” He teases, and then Nic does turn over, wrestles Tom onto his back, or tries to.

Tom fights back, both of them giggling and grappling while Nic’s panting, insisting _it was a solid working theory_.

He finally gets Tom pinned under him – only because Tom lets him, he’s pretty sure, but whatever, Nic’s still counting it as a win – and presses Tom’s arms back to the bed on either side of his head.

He leans down to kiss Tom - his mouth, his jaw, his ear.

“I thought that guy, the one we watched, Andris – I thought I’d never see anyone hotter than him in my life. Honestly, I thought no one could possibly come closer to perfection, in my eyes. It seemed – impossible. Until I saw you.”

He can feel Tom shiver under him, a full body shiver.

“Whatever happens here, wherever this thing goes, however long it lasts between us, I just. I want to make sure. I mean – you should _know_ that. I don’t care if you’re eighty and you haven’t seen me or talked to me in 50 years, just – promise me you’ll always remember that there’s someone out there who thinks you’re perfect. Everything about you – all of it, total package, just like you are, no exceptions, it’s all just – _perfect_. Okay?”

“Dowder,” Tom says, and his voice sounds choked.

“Promise me,” Nic insists again. “Say it.”

“Promise,” Tom sighs finally, and when he says it, it sounds like one.

-

When Nic finishes the dinner dishes and comes out of the kitchen, Tom’s laid out on the sectional, one leg hooked up over the back of the couch, watching golf highlights. Nic doesn’t even think about it, really, doesn’t stop to second guess himself like he would have just a week ago. Instead he just climbs onto the couch and insinuates himself in between Tom’s splayed open legs, pulls a throw pillow over Tom’s crotch, and settles in on his side, facing the television.

“Babe,” Tom says, burying his hand in Nic’s hair and using it to turn Nic’s face up toward him, “whatcha doing?”

“Watching TV,” Nic says, and wriggles himself a little closer. His right shoulder is snugged up against Tom’s balls, his head pillowed on Tom’s crotch, and he snakes his right arm under Tom’s thigh and pulls it against his chest, nudges his left knee up over Tom’s shin, like Tom’s leg is his own personal body pillow.

And Nic should maybe feel silly, or something, wrapping himself around Tom’s leg like some sort of overgrown koala, petting and pawing at him. But Tom doesn’t seem to mind, which is -.

Well, it’s _new_, is the thing, and it’s - . Nic would categorize it as _encouraging_.

Over the past few days – days that have ended with team-viewing of Andris’s live stream 4 out of the last 5 nights, thank you very much – Tom doesn’t seem to mind _anything_ Nic does, actually.

No matter how much Nic wants to touch him and invade his space and be as close as possible to him at all times, no matter how up close and personal Nic gets with Tom’s junk – a situation that always made Tom twitchy in the past, made him bristle and tense up and shrug Nic off unless they were actively engaged in a sex act involving Tom’s dick – Tom seems, just.

_Fine _with it, suddenly.

Nic’s been slowly letting himself actually _do_ those things, instead of just wanting them from afar while reminding himself that he probably shouldn’t act on those impulses, and Tom seems -.

Well, just. Pretty happy about it, actually. Like he likes it, too.

Nic’s very purposefully not assuming anything, like that this new-found easiness he feels from Tom means Tom is actually getting the message Nic had hoped he would, from watching Andris.

Or from the probably over-the-top, _definitely_ sappy stuff Nic said to Tom the other night, that still makes his face heat up when he thinks about it - mainly because of how utterly, completely true it was.

Nic knows he needs to stay vigilant, keep his wits about him, or he could get way too comfortable here, could start to want things or expect things that he shouldn’t.

What he knows for sure is: nothing is permanent, nothing is a sure thing, and this whole thing with Tom still has a million ways it could go wrong, so there’s no sense over-analyzing something he can’t control anyway. He tries to remind himself to just take it for what it is and enjoy it while it lasts, and let that be enough.

Because maybe this is actually going somewhere, maybe it will grow legs and turn into something that lasts, but maybe all he and Tom will ever be is two guys who needed something from each other, and found it at the right time in the right place, and were able to help each other out for a while. Nic’s not doing himself any good trying to guess how long it will last, or where it will go.

Nic’s a hockey player, after all – no one needs to tell him that letting yourself want something too much, think about it too hard, is a surefire way to jinx it.

“Okay then,” Tom grins down at him, indulgent, and runs his fingers through Nic’s hair before burying his hand in it again and leaving it there. Nic slides his left hand up the leg of Tom’s loose-fitting basketball shorts and pets at the wiry hair on Tom’s upper thigh. When Tom doesn’t even flinch at the contact, Nic runs a tentative hand even further up, under the leg of Tom’s underwear, until his fingers can rake lightly at the _very_ small patch of pubic hair that Tom doesn’t shave completely.

Tom rolls his eyes, but he's still grinning; Nic grins back, inordinately pleased.

“Okay then,” Nic agrees, then they both turn back to the television.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://makeit-takeit.tumblr.com/), if you're into that kind of thing!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Carte Blanche](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774040) by [AerPods (Aer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aer/pseuds/AerPods)


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